


looking for eight

by bonebo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: D/s, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Felching, Office Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, facesitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:09:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7869568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonebo/pseuds/bonebo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's potentially the worst decision of Gabriel Reyes's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was, in all honesty, potentially one of the worst decisions of Gabriel Reyes’s life. 

He knew McCree had it bad for him--hell, all of Blackwatch knew. The kid did nothing to hide his stares when he thought Gabriel wasn’t looking, and sometimes even when he was, following the sway of his Commander’s hips with his eyes every chance he got; he went out of his way to lace any interaction they had with a kind of playful edge, drawling out his _“Yessir”_ s and _“Commander”_ s with more emphasis than was absolutely necessary, just to watch Gabriel scowl. And during the--increasingly common--times they wound up in the wash racks together, the kid was straight-up _predatory_ , finding ways to get himself as close to Gabriel as possible and spending more time watching his Commander than actually bathing.

Gabriel knew all this--knew that McCree was used to slinging his revolver around and getting tail to practically fall into his lap, using his smooth drawl and soft brown eyes to get what he wanted. He knew that the longer he kept McCree thinking he was in the dark, oblivious to his overzealous advances, the more desperate the kid would get to make a show for Gabriel’s attention.

Which is what he wanted--to make McCree work for it, for once.

But now, he’s not entirely sure that was the best option.

Now finds McCree standing across from Gabriel’s desk with hands on hips and cocksure smirk plastered in place, his chest puffed out and shoulders drawn back like he’s actually got anything to show. He looks for all the world like he’s God’s gift to the universe, and if he can read the unimpressed, flat look on Gabriel’s face for what it is then he makes no comment on it, refuses to let it tamp his confidence. Instead, he cocks a hip and saunters forward enough to smack his palms down on Gabriel’s desk--knocks aside a stack of equipment files, makes Gabriel’s lip curl--and leans in close. 

“Hey, Commander,” he drawls, tipping his hat up as his smirk widens, showing the barest hint of teeth; Gabriel raises a brow at the move, takes solace in the thought that in Jesse’s head this whole display is probably much more appealing. “I couldn’t help but notice that you looked a little tense, back in the mess hall--”

“Brilliant observation, McCree,” Gabriel cuts in, sitting back in his chair just to put more space between them, rolling his eyes and missing the flicker of indignation that crosses the kid’s face. “It’s almost like I have a black ops organization to run, staffed by idiots who want to barge into my office when I’m working.”

McCree pouts, head tilting so an unruly piece of dark hair falls across his eyes. Gabriel tells himself it’s not cute. 

“Commander, you didn’t let me finish,” McCree says, voice feigning hurt; Gabriel ignores the tone, focused instead on the fact that Jesse still hasn’t moved off his desk. “I only came here because I was worried. Was wonderin’ if you wanted something to...take the edge off your stress.”

Gabriel blinks.

“...take the edge off,” he repeats slowly, incredulously; McCree nods, his dazzling smile returning in full force, and Gabriel is utterly _disgusted_ by how proud of himself he looks. “And just what, exactly, does _‘take the edge off’_ mean, McCree?”

(Looking back, Gabriel will see this as the moment that he stepped right into the trap.)

“Why, Commander, I’d be more than happy to show you,” McCree purrs, voice taking on a tone he surely thinks is sultry; and before Gabriel can so much as process the lingering promise in the answer, McCree is _right there_ , body half laid over Gabriel’s desk and lips firmly on his Commander’s.

Fortune favors the bold. Luckily for Jesse McCree, so does Gabriel.

That doesn’t stop him from shoving the kid away, though, once he feels the brush of a tongue against his bottom lip; McCree staggers back like he’s drunk, eyes bright and lopsided grin on his face, and for a moment all Gabriel can do is stare at him. Then--

“What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?” he demands, surging to his feet like a storm--and McCree just grins wider, if that was possible, shrugs his shoulders in a way that simulates the kind of sheepish he never is. 

“I told you, Commander,” he says, licking his lips in a way that Gabriel tries to keep from staring at; there’s a hint of dark flush to McCree’s cheeks now, he notices. A crack in the easygoing façade. “I’d like to help you work out your stress.”

Gabriel’s struck again by his disbelief at the kid’s daring, his initial shock and ire fading to something that he’s too peeved to call pride; he admits to himself that he has to give McCree props, because to just saunter into his Commander’s office and lay a kiss on him takes balls. 

Gabriel thinks, idly, that it might not be too terrible to see them for himself.

After the calamity that was him and Morrison, in the SEP--two people too different to ever make something as delicate as a romance work--he’s more or less sworn off engaging that way, baring himself that way, to another; but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss parts of it, like the heady mix of pain and pleasure that came from riding a thick cock, or the cleansing rush of a good, hard orgasm that his hand and his thoughts could never achieve. Plus, he reasons, having McCree under him and begging, wiping that smirk off his face to replace it with a look more desperate--it might check the kid’s ego a bit, be a way to remind him who exactly is in charge without landing him in the infirmary again.

“...fine,” Gabriel finally says, noting with some amount of interested arousal the way McCree’s eyes gleam, how his gaze sharpens. Just to quell that enthusiasm, he sharply adds, “But we do this my way, got it?”

McCree’s easy grin changes to something hungrier, a smirk that tells Gabriel he absolutely does _not_ get it.

“Yes, Commander,” he drawls, and touches his brow in a lazy salute.

 

__

 

They start out on the desk.

It’s clichéd and Gabriel hates it--hates even more the way his files go scattering across the floor as he slams Jesse onto the desktop, kicks his legs apart to lean over him--but with his lips on McCree’s and the kid’s tongue licking hungrily into his mouth, he can’t exactly complain. He settles himself on his elbows over McCree and cages the kid’s head with his arms, eyes closed as he lets himself indulge in the kissing, clumsy and sloppy as it may be; his fingers brush across felt worn soft with use and he grabs the brim of the stupid hat, tossing it to the floor and smirking against Jesse’s lips at the indignant noise he earns.

For a few moments, it’s--relatively--nice; McCree’s warmth under him and his hands settled over the broad muscle of Gabriel’s shoulders, rubbing slow circles into the tension there. Gabriel has a moment of stupidity where he thinks that maybe McCree really did want to help him de-stress, after all.

But then McCree’s hand sneaks up--fingers settling into cropped curls and lingering before he starts to gently push. Gabriel snaps his eyes open as he feels the pressure on his head, and realizes with a hot flash of anger that Jesse McCree is trying to coax him down between his legs, where his cock surely waits hard in his pants and needy for a hole.

Oh no.

Oh, _hell_ no.

Gabriel’s hand snaps up, grabs the offending wrist and yanks it back, twisting Jesse’s arm up behind his head; the kid yelps in pain, arching up to follow the stress his limb is put under, and Gabriel’s free hand fastens around that slender throat like a steel trap. He leans in, close enough to see the way Jesse’s eyes widen when he snarls, “And just what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

“I...I…” McCree swallows around the grip on his throat, cheeks flushing darker; Gabriel can feel McCree’s cock twitch where it strains full and heavy against his thigh, and he rolls his eyes because of course the kid would be into getting choked and berated by his Commander. 

“Well?” His grip tightens, just a hair; Jesse’s eyes roll back a little, mouth falling open helplessly. His hips buck up wantonly, brushing against Gabriel’s thigh, and it takes everything Gabriel has to not grind his own right back. “I asked you a question, McCree!”

Jesse finally seems to find his voice, sucking in enough breath to spit out, “I-I’m _sorry!_ ”

Gabriel relents; lets go of McCree entirely, straightens up enough to glare down at him. Gabriel finds his attention divided between watching the way Jesse’s narrow chest heaves as he pants and trying to hide how breathless he is, too.

“...No, you’re not,” he finally decrees, once he’s wrestled himself back under control; he takes a step back and snorts at the picture McCree makes, sprawled out across his desk with his thighs spread wide and cock tenting his pants. “But you’re gonna be. Clothes off--I want you on your knees.”

The look McCree gives him is something to savor: eyes uncertain but face flushed with want, thighs quivering like they need Gabriel’s weight between them again. He licks his lips as he pushes himself up off the desk, hands immediately going to the latches of the Blackwatch-standard body armor--again Gabriel is impressed by how bold being hungry for cock seems to make McCree.

“Whoa, cowboy,” Gabriel says, sinking into his chair again; he has half a mind to pull his straining cock out, ease the pressure between his legs, but decides it’ll be better for McCree’s ego if he doesn’t know how worked up a little making out and choking had gotten him. He smirks wickedly. “Go slow. Make it good. I’m sure you know how.”

The words get the exact effect Gabriel was hoping for--Jesse blushes from the tips of his ears down to his neck, looks at Gabriel with wide eyes like all the cocksure confidence he’d sauntered into the office with has evaporated. But no hesitation shows in his movements, as he unclasps first one then both buckles of the body armor; pulls it off and tosses it onto the floor, and without the added bulk Gabriel’s struck again by how McCree is so _different_. Slim and trim to the point of bordering on lanky, his muscles leaner than the average Blackwatch member’s--he’s _small_ compared to them, as much as he’d hate to hear it, and Gabriel can’t help but wonder just how that lithe body will feel under his own.

His attention is dragged back to the present by McCree pulling off the regulation undershirt, the ripple of his abdominal muscles as he tugs it free, throws it aside. Like this Gabriel can study him, see everything he’s never had the chance to before--like the smattering of freckles across McCree’s shoulders, the dusky pebbled rise of his nipples, the handful of faint scars tracked over his bronzed skin.

Looking up from working his belt free, McCree seems to notice the way Gabriel stares; he grins coyly, tossing his bangs out of his eyes. “Like what you see, Commander?”

He does. Very much.

“Just get on it with it, would you?” Gabriel snaps, flustered by how much this actually _is_ affecting him, how the sight of McCree stripping down in his office at his command makes his blood roar. Jesse’s grin tilts like he knows of his commander’s struggle, but through some kind of divine intervention he keeps his mouth shut as he pulls his belt free, works down his pants; and then he’s standing in front of Gabriel in nothing but a pair of star-spangled boxers, blue fabric already turned dark and clinging over the outline of his cock, shameless in his excitement.

Gabriel licks his lips, takes a breath. His voice comes out hoarse as he says, “Come here, McCree.”

Jesse scrambles to him, limbs awkward and gangly as he tries to straddle Gabriel’s lap, the chair groaning in protest at their weight; Gabriel grabs two handfuls of McCree’s ass and fastens his lips to the kid’s bared throat and doesn’t care, tasting McCree’s pulse racing against his tongue and listening earnestly to the shaky moan his mouth pulls from McCree’s chest. As Gabriel continues his assault on McCree’s neck--biting and sucking his claim into soft skin, laving his tongue over the hickeys before pulling away enough to make more--Jesse’s hands flutter over Gabriel like he doesn’t know where to put them, raking nails down the back of Gabriel’s hoodie and carding fingers through his hair a moment later, restless and eager to touch as much of his Commander as he possibly can.

Gabriel intends to let him.

“Off,” he snarls, giving McCree’s throat one last parting bite; Jesse untangles himself with a whine--”Shut up and lay down, _puta_ ,” Gabriel snaps--and Gabriel’s fingers shake as he wrestles off his own clothes, stripping himself bare in a matter of moments.

(It’s his office, he thinks, glancing to the closed door and giving his cock a satisfying squeeze; the only person stupid enough to barge in without warning is currently a gasping, writhing mess on his floor.)

He looks back over to find Jesse has probably come to the same conclusion, with his own hand working feverishly over his flushed cock, his back arched and lip bitten as he just _stares_ at his Commander; and as much as the notion of being eye-candy is flattering, it’s not what Gabriel wants right now.

He goes to the bottom drawer of his desk and grabs a small black box, keeps it in hand as he drops to his knees over McCree’s thighs; the kid’s eyes linger on it, then dart up to Gabriel, asking a question he’s too breathless to put voice to.

Gabriel huffs, flipping back the lid of the box and taking out a small bottle of clear slick. “What? You think you’re the first person I’ve fucked in here?” He pauses long enough to give Jesse an appraising look, ignoring his absolutely _scandalized_ expression, then fishes around in the box until he finds a slender ring made of black silicon and pulls that out, too. 

“You know what these things are?” Gabriel asks, glancing down at his hands as he spreads a dollop of lube over the ring; if he looks beyond his fingers, he can see McCree’s cock, head flushed dark and leaking pre-cum against the dark brown curls of the kid’s lower belly. It looks ready to blow already, full and heavy and twitching every now and again, and only serves to make Gabriel more certain in his decision.

“I know the lube,” McCree answers, voice a little warbled and accent thicker and _yeah_ , Gabriel wants to hear more of that. “The other thing, I, uh...I dunno--”

“You’re gonna know.” Gabriel deems the ring slick enough and reaches for McCree’s cock--the kid nearly jumps out of his skin as he’s grabbed, and Gabriel raises a brow at him, honestly surprised by the reaction. He hadn’t expected Jesse to be so sensitive. “Jesus, kid, calm down. You’re gonna finish before we’ve even got anything started.”

McCree at least has the social grace to look flustered, pretend to be ashamed; but that look quickly fades as Gabriel presses the ring up against the head of his cock and starts to roll it down, smoothing the lube over it as he goes. When he’s finally got the ring settled where he wants it--tucked snug against the tight, fuzzy curve of McCree’s young balls, holding his stiff cock hostage--he sits back and takes a moment to admire his work, savor the sight of McCree laid out in front of him, eager and ready for whatever Gabriel decides to do next.

And after a moment of consideration, Gabriel decides he wants to sit on McCree’s face.

He shuffles up McCree’s body--ignores Jesse’s heartbroken look as he completely bypasses his trapped cock--and it takes him reaching Jesse’s shoulders for the kid to realize what Gabriel must want. His hands come up eagerly to touch at Gabriel, smoothing over the hair on his thick thighs and squeezing full handfuls of his ass; he licks his lips as the junction of Gabriel’s legs looms over his face, and tilts his chin up to nuzzle and lick at the hot, heavy sack that brushes across his nose.

“Of course this is what you know,” Gabriel mutters, and sits down.

The first lap of McCree’s tongue is bold and unexpected, and pulls a gasp from him before he can help it; he hears McCree’s muffled snicker beneath him and grinds his ass down vengefully, smothering the noise before it can continue.

“Mind your manners, boy,” he growls, tipping his head back with a sigh as Jesse attempts to rectify his mistake, laving apologetically over the clench of his hole and pressing wet kisses against Gabriel’s taint. “...better...keep going. I know how much you’ve been staring at my ass; you’re not as slick as you think you are.”

Jesse moans in agreement against Gabriel’s skin, sucking and licking over the flexing pucker of his ass before he works up the courage to spear his tongue inside; Gabriel arches his back with a low groan at the barely-there spread, and reaches back to brace himself on Jesse’s chest, starting to ride McCree’s tongue in short, purposeful rolls of his hips. For a while it’s enough--the press of warm and wet against his rim, stretching him out just enough to feel it, McCree’s eagerness as he tries to delve deeper--but after a few more minutes of grinding his ass over McCree’s face Gabriel quickly realizes that he needs more.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hisses, forcing himself to lift up; but as soon as he starts to pull away, McCree grabs at his thighs with a mournful keen, scrabbling at his flesh with blunt nails and trying to pull him back down. He arches up in a desperate attempt to follow Gabriel’s ass, trying to keep his tongue snugged up in the grip of his hole for as long as he can, and only stops when Gabriel shoves a hand down onto his chest.

“Would you _stop?_ ” Gabriel looks down at McCree’s flushed face in exasperation, half-amused by the kid’s enthusiasm but more impatient to get things moving; he finally settles himself back over the spread of McCree’s hips and grabs the bottle of lube again.

“‘m sorry, Commander,” McCree pants out, hands rubbing restlessly over Gabriel’s thighs and not sounding sorry at all. “But like you said--I’ve been starin’ at that ass for a long damn time. It ain’t fair that I don’t get to enjoy it proper.”

Gabriel rolls his eyes--can’t do much else, as he bites his lip and works a finger into himself, then two. He can hear McCree’s little murmurs of excitement as he works himself out--half-breathless mutters of “ _Fuck, yeah, that’s hot_ ” and “ _Yeah, Commander, stretch that fat ass out_ ” that have Gabriel feeling like he’s in some kind of bad porno--and has half a mind to choke the kid until he shuts up again, but begrudgingly admits that the whispered words of adoration are far from the worst thing he’s had to put up with while fucking. 

If it makes McCree feel good to talk about how sexy he thinks his Commander is, then who is Gabriel to stop him?

“I hope you’re ready for this,” he mutters, pulling his fingers free of himself with a wet noise and grabbing for McCree’s cock with one hand; he guides its flushed head to the slick clench of his hole, then looks to McCree’s face, noting with faint satisfaction the lusty glaze to his eyes, the bright blush settled high on his cheeks.  
McCree already looks like he’s on the cusp of climax--and he hasn’t even got his dick inside anything yet.

“Ready?” McCree huffs, trying to mask his desperation with indignity; it’s a little endearing, Gabriel thinks, if desperate. “Commander, I’ve been ready for that sweet ass for-- _aahhh_ …!” 

He cuts off with a breathy gasp as Gabriel finally decides to take him in, spearing himself with the head of McCree’s cock; Gabriel would laugh at the response if he wasn’t so busy gritting his teeth against the burning stretch, slowly dropping his hips down inch by inch over the hot length spreading him. McCree’s hands snap up to Gabriel’s hips, digging into the firm muscle there needily as he hangs on for dear life, and Gabriel hisses at the bite of dirty fingernails against his skin. 

He manages to work himself down until he’s sitting flush against McCree’s pelvis, with their skin pressed together and McCree’s hips twitching in impulsive, barely-there thrusts; Gabriel bites back a groan at the feel of it, McCree’s constant, irregular motion, and tips his head back with a low groan as the kid starts to actually move. The jerks of his hips get stronger, unsteady in their rhythm but full of intent, his lip bitten as he bucks his cock up into the warm clutch of Gabriel’s ass.

“ _Fuck_ \--Commander,” he chokes out, sounding half-strangled; he looks up at Gabriel desperately, panting out, “You’re so good--’s so _good_ , fuck, I-I--”

“You’d better not cum yet,” Gabe snaps, grabbing Jesse’s hands off his hips and slamming them down on either side of the boy’s head, leaning over him and lifting off his cock just enough to hear McCree’s whimper. He starts to work himself over McCree’s--surprisingly thick--cock in long, unhurried rolls of his hips, keeping his pace slow and unwavering--half to tease the kid, but also because he’d nearly forgotten just how nice it felt to be fucked and filled this way.

But McCree looks anything but patient, his head tossing fitfully as Gabriel steadily works him over; he tries to jerk his own hips up, chasing Gabriel’s ass with his cock and throwing off his motions, prompting a snarl from his commander that he takes as a cue to stay still.

“I gave you the chance to satisfy me,” Gabriel growls, hands squeezing McCree’s wrists tightly where they’re held against the floor, listening to the boy’s whimper. “Gave you an opportunity to fuck me--and you’re gonna waste it by blowing your load as soon as you get your dick in me? Is that how you show gratitude, McCree?”

“N-no, Commander,” McCree chokes out, between desperate gulps of air, shaking his head frantically. “No--”

“That’s what I thought.” Gabriel rewards the confession by sliding down enough to take McCree’s cock back in to the hilt, and can’t stop a breathy sigh of his own at the feeling. “That’s why you’re not going to cum until I say you can, right?”

McCree looks at him dumbly--face flushed and mouth hanging open, eyes glassy, but at another squeeze to his wrists he nods, wildly. “Y-yes--yes, Commander! Not until--not until you say…”

Gabriel purrs, releasing one wrist to give McCree’s scruffy cheek a pat. “Good boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Not until I say”_ turns out to be much longer than McCree had anticipated.

With Gabriel’s voice in his ear--hissing _“Your cock feels so nice, McCree”_ and _“I could keep you here all day”_ , his voice a sinful thing--and the tight heat of his ass working over McCree’s straining length, it feels like he’s being ridden for eternity, into an early but content grave. When Gabriel deems him worthy of having his mobility back he sets his hands reverently on his Commander’s thighs, fingers digging into the taut muscle there and McCree gritting his teeth as Gabriel slows down his pace _yet again_.

 _“Commander,”_ he whines, bucking his hips up in cautious, half-hearted thrusts; as badly as he wants to shoot off inside that fat ass, he wants a repeat of these activities even more. He thinks not pissing Gabriel off would work well to that end. “Please--’m gonna _bust_ , Commander, c’mon--”

“Not— _yet_ ,” Gabriel huffs, letting his head loll back as he just savors the feel of everything--McCree’s hot shaft, the cushion of his hairy thighs, his desperation. It’s a heady mix that threatens to undo his composure, especially when he feels a hand wrap around his own aching cock; he looks down sharply with a startled gasp of, “McCree-- _!_ ”

The kid gives him a breathless grin, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed dark, mouth open as he pants; his hand is clumsy as it strokes over Gabe’s length, but seems to have the effect he was going for, as Gabriel doesn’t protest the contact and just lets his head drop forward. He starts to roll his hips between the dual sensations--fucking into the sweat-slick grip of McCree’s fist and rocking back onto his shallowly-pumping cock, biting back a moan so the kid doesn’t know how good it is.

“Y’like it, Commander?” McCree asks eagerly, licking his lips, eyes roaming over Gabriel’s body; he starts to babble in his desperation, needing some kind of distraction to draw him away from how his cock _throbs_. “Y’like my hand on your fuckin’ cock? My dick up your ass? ‘S fuckin’ good, ain’t it?” He pauses to take a breath, then starts, “Y’like it when I--”

“Shut _up_.” Gabriel leans over McCree again to slam their lips together, kissing his breath away; it’s a much better use for the brat’s mouth, he decides. He drapes himself comfortably over McCree’s torso and lets McCree fuck up into him, supporting himself on his elbows to ease the building ache in his thighs.

As soon as their kiss breaks, Gabriel pulling away enough to breathe, McCree starts talking again.

“I gotta cum,” he gasps, hands going to Gabriel’s ass and grabbing, kneading, squeezing, hating the tight grip of the ring around his cock; Gabriel sighs against sweat-slick brown hair and shakes his head, voice hoarse as he answers, “No.”

“But I--”

“No.”

“I’m gonna bust, Commander I _need--_ ”

“Not yet.”

“Commander, _please--_ ”

“No.”

“--please I’m gonna _die_ please--”

“Not yet, McCree.”

“ _Commander!_ What do you want me to fuckin’ say? I--”

“Beg for it, McCree.”

“I fuckin’ _am_!” McCree pants harshly, looking up at Gabriel with tears brimming his eyes, sweat beaded along his brow; he could cry with how badly he wants to cum, with how much he wants to just pull those wide hips down and bury his cock in to the hilt and spray his load inside his Commander, tear the ring around his cock off and shoot his load across Gabriel’s skin. Made mindless by his need, he babbles, “Fuck, _Daddy_ , please just let me fuckin’ _cum_!” and claws at Gabriel’s ass, equally surprised and gratified by the low, raw moan it pulls from his Commander’s lips.

Is that what it was going to take?

“That’s— _ahh_ \--that’s your kink, huh?” McCree would laugh if he wasn’t so desperate for satisfaction--instead he just grips Gabriel’s ass tighter and bucks his hips up sharper, fucking into the warm grip of his ass and delighting in his Commander’s moan. “Y’like-- _nnn_ \--like it when I call you that? Call you m’daddy, tell you how good— _mmm!_ \--you feel around my fuckin’ cock? _Huh_?”

Gabriel hates how quickly he nods, hates the needy-sounding noise that spills from his lips; but _fuck_ , yes, he loves hearing McCree say it, loves the blush that goes all the way up to the brat’s ears, loves the wrecked tone of his voice and the grip he has on his ass, the jerky thrusts of his hips. He loves fucking Jesse McCree and he’s horrified by it, and in an attempt to regain some of his slipped control he puts a hand back around the brat’s throat, squeezing the muscle there with purpose.

“You fucking--wanna cum?” he growls, watching McCree’s eyes close and seeing the gleam of his teeth digging into his lip, the frantic swallow of his throat; desperation looks good on him, Gabriel decides. “Fucking fine. Cum then, brat.”

And it’s like opening a floodgate--McCree’s hands turn to vices on Gabriel’s ass, dragging him down to meet each frenzied thrust of his hips, and Gabriel’s mouth finds McCree’s neck, teeth sinking into his skin to taste the sweat there. It only takes a few more wild jerks of his hips before he’s burying himself into Gabriel as far as he can go, head thrown back against the floor as he howls his release to the room; Gabriel rides out the McCree’s climax like the tail end of a storm, bracing himself on the heaving chest and closing his eyes, keening at the feel of the kid finishing hot inside him.

He gives McCree a few seconds to catch his breath, stare glassy-eyed and dumb up at the ceiling; takes a few to settle himself, even out his breathing. Then--

“Alright.” Gabriel’s thighs quiver as he lifts off McCree’s cock, drawing a hiss from him. Gabriel rolls onto his back and sets his feet wide apart, reaching down to take himself in hand and give his shaft a few quick strokes; McCree looks at him blearily, as if not understanding why he’s moved, and Gabriel nudges at the scruff of his cheek with a toe. 

“C’mon, brat. Finish what you started.” He hooks an arm under his knee to draw it up, baring the flexing gape of his ass for McCree to see--and the glaze of cum that dribbles out around his flushed rim. 

McCree looks almost comical, staring first at Gabriel’s wet hole, then up at his face, then back down. “...You--”

“I want you to get your tongue in my ass and clean your cum out of me,” Gabriel says, pausing in his strokes to rub his thumb over the piercing at the head of his cock; when McCree still hesitates, Gabriel whistles sharply at him, hiking his knee up a little higher. “C’mon, brat. I don’t have all day.”

McCree nods jerkily. He rolls onto his front and scrambles over to his Commander, hands immediately grabbing Gabriel’s thighs and pushing them up to his chest; he ducks his head down and goes at Gabriel’s ass like he’s starving, nuzzling his nose into the warm space behind Gabriel’s balls and licking into his lax hole, sucking the warm cum out. Gabriel lets his head lay back with a soft moan, pleased by McCree’s enthusiasm--he’d been sure the kid would’ve taken more coaxing--and his hand tightens around his cock, thumbing across the ladder piercings lightly as he works himself over to chase the orgasm that’s been just out of his reach.

“Fuck,” he breathes, as McCree spears his tongue and pushes it deep, searching out every drop of himself inside Gabriel; he moans against the slick pucker of his Commander’s hole, releasing his grip to run his hands down Gabriel’s thighs and spread the muscular globes of his ass instead. “ _Fuck_ , McCree…”

McCree hums in reply, glancing up to peek over the tight swell of Gabriel’s balls and watch the quick glide of his hand as he jerks off, the way one of his hands goes to thumb and tug at the barbell pierced through his nipple, the expanse of his throat as his head tips back in pleasure. The knowledge that _he_ did this--reduced his stoic Commander to moaning, stretched-out and exposed--is enough to make his cock stir again in interest, despite the grip of the ring still snug upon it. He notices the way Gabriel’s breath starts to hitch, the twitch of his balls as they jerk up closer to his body, and he redoubles his efforts, laving wet and warm over the used hole offered to him so graciously, eager to see his Commander cum.

It doesn’t take long--already primed from the fucking, between McCree’s tongue feasting on his ass and his own hand playing over his cock Gabriel reaches the edge in minutes. All it takes is him snagging one of his ladder piercings just right, and the twinge of pain against the rising tide of pleasure is enough. 

He throws his head back with a low, ragged-sounding moan, back arching off the floor as he sprays thick stripes of white across his chest; McCree whines and tries to follow him, keeping his mouth snug against Gabriel’s ass and tongue still buried deep, trying to milk every drop from him despite the way his Commander squirms. Gabriel endures the sucking and licking at his hole for as long as he can, but eventually pries McCree off him with his heel, too sensitive to take any more.

For a moment the only noise is the office is their recovery--Gabriel’s shallow pants and McCree’s longer breaths, the occasional moan or sigh of satiation. McCree is the first to break the near-silence, looking up at Gabriel from between his splayed legs and giving him a breathless grin as he asks, “Are you ready for round two?”

Gabriel looks down at the kid--considers him and his flushed cheeks, the sheen of spit and dried cum across his bottom lip. He can’t help but smile himself.

“Get out of my office, McCree.”


End file.
